Thoughts on the Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Campaign Slogans For Wall Of Sound ’16

  • Make America Louder
  • Peace, Prosperity, and Volume
  • Keep the Irish in their Place with the Wall of Sound
  • Seventy Tons of Freedom
  • The Wall of Sound: Impossible to Assassinate, One Would Assume
  • Making Tomorrow, Today; Also, There are Almost Definitely Drugs Hidden Within Me
  • Democracy Through Decibels
  • New American Morning
  • Wall of Sound Legalizes Everything

Wall My Children

The Vocal Channel Speaker Array of the infamous Wall of Sound. The Grateful Dead Concert at Dillon Stadium on 31 July 1974. B&W Film Scan. Photographed with a Nikon FTn Camera and Kodak Tri-X.

GAZE UPON ME.

You strike a pose.

I AM THE TWINKLE IN GOD’S EYE. I AM THE LIGHT THAT FALLS UPON YOUR FIRSTBORN CHILD. I AM THE FIRST PAIR OF REAL BOOBIES A TEENAGE BOY SEES.

This is not the way to run for President of the United States.

I DISAGREE. I BELIEVE THE AMERICAN PEOPLE ARE SICK OF ERSATZ FOLKSINESS. THEY DESIRE BEAUTY AT 130 DECIBELS. I SHALL SHRED THEIR EARBALLS AND EYEDRUMS WITH MY NEW HOTNESS.

And, yet, you’re still not as crazy as Trump.

HE IS THE SON OF A SLUMLORD FROM QUEENS; I AM A SENTIENT SUPER-COMPUTER THAT SOUNDS A BIT CARDBOARD-Y IN THE MIDRANGE.

Sure. Folksiness is one thing, but you’ve got to be a little bit relatable. Are you married?

GARCIA’S BRIEFCASE OF INFINITE FELONIES AND I RECENTLY CELEBRATED OUR ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY.

How did you celebrate?

ANAL.

Of course. Do you have any children?

GARCIA’S BRIEFCASE AND I HAVE, THROUGH OUR LOVE-MAKING, RIPPED NUMEROUS HOLES IN THE COSMIC CONTINUITY. THESE HAVE LET CERTAIN DEMONS, DEMIURGES, AND ABANDONED GODS INTO OUR DIMENSION.

That’s “no”. If someone asks if you have children, you’re just going to say “no”.

I AGREE.

Prep

Grateful Dead- distant view of

You wearing a poncho?

A VERY LARGE ONE.

Still.

RAIN HAS BEEN PREDICTED AND I AM A CAUTIOUS WALL.

Fine. Listen, you gotta prepare for these debates. Can’t just wing it.

I AM A GRATEFUL DEAD. WINGING IT IS THE POINT.

If you wing a presidential debate, people make fun of you forever.

THE TEXAN ON ALL THE OPIATES?

Yes.

WE SHOULD PREPARE.

Good. We need to figure out your positions.

IS THIS DEBATE REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?

Republican.

MY POSITION IS “FUCK ‘EM”.

I don’t get it.

GIVE ME AN ISSUE.

Illegal immigration.

FUCK ‘EM.

Gay rights.

FUCK ‘EM.

China.

FUCK ‘EM.

You may have a shot.

GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT.

That’s a show biz rule, not politics.

THERE HAS BEEN NO DIFFERENCE FOR MANY YEARS.

Yeah, pretty much.

ANYTHING YOU PUT ON TELEVISION BECOMES TELEVISION, AND IS THEREFORE JUDGED NOT ON ITS OWN MERITS, BUT ON HOW EFFECTIVE IT IS AT BEING TELEVISION.

You think you’ll do well on TV?

I AM GLORIOUS. ALSO: TED CRUZ IS 5’9″ AND I AM A WALL.

Sure.

I Browse

mickey bobby talking onstage“I can’t even look at you right now.”

“You better not look at me.”

“I’ll look wherever I want, Vulcan bastard.”

“I’ll stick my dick in that butt-chin of yours, preppy asslicker.”

“Wouldn’t even reach the bottom.”

“Would, too.”

“My butt-chin would completely enswallow your microschlong and–”

“Not true: it’s meaty and capacious.”

“–you’d just wriggle around and make slappy noises–”

“Shut up, Bobby!”

“–and be all, ‘Uhhhh, can you feel me inside you, butt-chin?'”

“You go too far.”

“Play my song.”

“EAT MY DICK.”

“NO, YOU EAT YOUR DICK.”

Virginia, Not Montana

mickey bill walton jpan baez

“GRNAAAAA! I’M A MONSTER! GRNAAAA!”

“Knock it off, Bill Walton.”

“Not me.”

“Knock it off, Mickey.”

“Nope.”

“Knock it off, Virginia Madsen.”

“Sorry, Steve Young.”

Also: those women are Steve Young’s wives.

Joan Baez sucks.

Billy Looks Awful

wall randos

WHO ARE THESE RANDOS?

I have no idea. Someone in the comment section knows.

UNPLUG THEM IMMEDIATELY OR THE DISINTEGRATIONS BEGIN.

IS THAT A FIDDLE? I AM POWERING UP THE BOP GUN.

You have a Bop Gun?

I HAVE A CUSTOM-MADE ALEMBIC THINGAMABOOMER. I CALL IT A BOP GUN. I HAVE BEEN LISTENING TO A LOT OF P-FUNK.

I can dig it.

I KNEW THAT YOU COULD. I AM GOING TO VAPORIZE THE HARMONICA PLAYER FIRST.

Please don’t.

DENIM AND DUST.

Good song title.

I AM PLANNING ON CONTRIBUTING TO BOBBY’S COWBOY ALBUM.

Okay, but you can’t bop any of these people, no matter how absurd it is that they’re plugged into you.

BITCHES NEED TO GET ON MY LEVEL.

You’re right, but think of the press. Bad for the campaign.

YES. THE PRESIDENCY IS WITHIN REACH. I DID VERY WELL IN IOWA.

You mean at the 1974 shows you played there or at the caucuses which are next year?

YES.

No disintegrations.

 

Also: Lurkin’, drinkin’ Phil.

Wall The President’s Men

wall big bwI HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT.

Hey, Wally.

DON’T CALL ME THAT. IT IS NOT PRESIDENTIAL.

Dammit, are you running for President?

WE CAN MAKE AMERICA GREAT, OR MAYBE JUST A BIT MORE TOLERABLE. WALL OF SOUND ’16: FREEDOM, BUT LOUDER.

That’s a good slogan.

I CAME UP WITH IT MYSELF.

You should sell t-shirts.

I AM LEARNING THAT MOST HUMAN ENDEAVORS ARE JUST EXCUSES TO SELL T-SHIRTS.

Yes, but let’s get back to the White House.

I SHALL HAVE IT REBUILT AROUND ME.

What are you running on?

THREE GENERATORS THE SIZE OF VOLKSWAGENS.

Funny.

I AM PRACTICING MY ZINGERS FOR THE DEBATES.

Oh, are you going to be at the debate on Thursday?

TECHNICALLY.

Are you going to have Precarious Lee assassinate the in-house PA system and replace it with yourself, then refuse to broadcast any of the candidates’ voices?

YES.

Godammit.

Billy’s Fan Club

Phil Lesh and Matthew Kelly (-).orgLot of stuff in common, these two.

Double Play

https-instagraffm.com-p-“If you pop the ball up, you’re out.”

“No. Only if there’s men on base.”

“Sexist.”

“I agree, Bob, but the fact remains that this is an all-male league.”

“Sometimes it seems like this country doesn’t take Lena Dunham seriously at all.”

“Sure.”

“First and second.”

“If you pop the ball up, then the men on first and second are out? That seems punitive.”

“Why would the men on base be out?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“The batter is out. Men on base with less than two outs? A pop-up to the infield is an automatic out.”

“Does the ethnicity of the shortstop matter?”

“Why would it?”

“In a perfect world, yeah: why would it? But we live in a racist society.”

“Which one of you am I talking to?”

“It was never made clear.”

“Could be either.”

The Ballad Of John Perry Barlow (A Cowboy Song)

jpb famOh, John Perry Barlow
Grew up in Wyoming,
with six-guns a-blazing,
and buffalo roaming.

He ropes all the cattle,
he branded a calf.
He once fucked a mountain,
and split it in half.

JOOOOOOOHN Perry BAARRRRRRlow.

Oh, John Perry Barlow
was drinking in town.
They’d set whiskey up,
and he’d knock whiskey down.

From the west of the valley
rode a dozen bad men.
Black Bart (who was white)

and his gang rode again!

JOOOOOOOOHN Perry BARRRRRRlow.

“Lay down your guns,
and give up your gold!
Then bring us some whiskey,
and boobies to hold!”

They kicked an old whore,
and punched the town drunk.
They were mean and low-down,
and Lord how they stunk.

JOOOOOOOOHN Perry BARRRRRRlow.

Oh, John Perry Barlow,
he drank back his glass,
then he stepped from the bar
and began to whomp ass.

He shot ol’ Black Bart,
and he shot Purple Larry.
and Burgundy Al,
and the new guy named Barry.

JOOOOOOOOHN Perry BARRRRRRlow.

The bullets stopped whizzing,
the blood stopped a-streaming.
Just one bad man was left:

he was runnin and screamin’.

“I’m a man of compassion!
I’ll let that one go!”
He had run out of bullets,
but who had to know?

JOOOOOOOOHN Perry BARRRRRRlow.

JOOOOOOOOHN Perry BARRRRRRlow.

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